THe VIctory Party! Epilog to Rapid Peril
by majorbee
Summary: Our heroes, Boromir, Faramir, Aragorn, and all have ridden home victorious from the Black Gates, Sauron and The Ring destroyed. Frodo and Sam as well as the wounded Garad, have had some time to recuperate.So -- let the party begin!


EPILOG The Party Continues! (Rapid Peril)

Carolyn Golledge

A/N It has come to my attention that it would be almost impossible to erase all trace of my fannish presence from the internet as I have been writing stories for over 20 years. The majority are about Han Solo, but I fell in love with Sean Bean's Boromir (and Mortensen, and Wenham…..and etc!) in 2002. Thus far, I have not had a single positive response from an agent re my pro book, though I have only tried USA, and am now to start on UK and Australia.

I will approach them under a different name, which should have occurred to me before. The book does not need to be printed under Carolyn Golledge, it could as easily be C T Golledge or some such.

So…. There was no need for me to panic and take down all my LOTR fanfic (I never did get round to Journey Home, so at least it's still here.) I will as soon as I can return all the other stories as well. Meantime, to say sorry and thanks for your loyalty, I am posting the final part of Rapid Peril…. The party! G All characters get their time on stage but it features Garad and Elena in closing pages as I wanted to show the 'ordinary' people, the off screen heroes and what the victory means to them. Enjoy!

Also I am currently writing a new Boromir adventure titled SoulFull, in which Boromir 'dies' in Moria when the cave troll injures him, and he later, trying, half conscious to save Gandalf, falls with him… but then things really start to happen! And Faramir and Garad are included. This story and other shorter titles (such as continuation to Battle Scars) are to be printed in the fannish book, (called a fanzine) Warriors of Gondor issue 5 this May. I will then have to wait at least 6 months to post online. I also hope to post online my stories from last year's issue, soon, which includes the sequel to A Gentle Touch.

Anyone wishing to contact me please use the following email address carolynDOTgolledge AT bigpond DOT com.

Thanks for reading and please let me know how you feel after reading this Epilog. It always gives me the warm fuzzies and a huge smile!

Carolyn

The Party!

"Come now, " Liel urged, beginning to shoo the people on the stage toward the stairs, "Beth will not be happy if we're late for her feast."

"A Hobbit is never late for dinner," Pippin told her with a cheeky grin from over his shoulder. Then he stopped, just short of bumping into Garad who had not moved. He waited a moment, but the big Ranger still did not move. Pippin opened his mouth to make his presence known.

"Hush," Liel said, her hand alighting on his shoulder and forestalling Boromir's need to do the same.

"About time he got to it,"' Boromir said, gently bringing Frodo and Sam to wait at his side.

Liel shared a warmly amused smile with her husband. "They've been like a married couple for years."

"I…" Garad mumbled for the third or fourth time, "It's here somewhere. I know it is. I think it is." He continued to hunt in various places, then, realising he was wearing Boromir's spare shirt, cast a somewhat desperate glance to him. "Where's my gear? Do you know what happened to my jerkin?"

"Yes," Boromir said and Garad breathed relief, "It was beyond saving, cut to shreds when we stripped you. It's back there, somewhere, buried in the dust."

"What!"

"No, it isn't," Faramir corrected.

Garad looked at him hopefully.

"Orders. Leave the place clean. Burned everything."

Boromir bit his lip to stop from grinning. Liel kicked him in the shin, suddenly glad that she was wearing shoes. Faramir got an elbow from Eowyn. Startled, he turned and looked down at her and Liel saw a whole new perspective dawn in his expression. Suddenly, Garad's predicament didn't strike him as at all funny when it could soon apply to he himself.

"But --," Faramir hastily amended, "We checked carefully through everything first and saved anything important. We put it all with you in the wagon."

From behind Garad, Elena rolled her eyes at Liel, impatient and knowing what Garad was about, annoyed that they were forestalling him getting to his much-needed rest. Liel glanced quickly at the Man and had to admit he was looking more pale by the moment. Teasing him about something so important wasn't helping, and he wasn't clear-headed enough to understand.

"I found those, only the… the…_ thing I need _isn't there!" Garad said urgently.

"Oh, right!" Boromir exclaimed, catching Liel and Elena's concern. "We would never leave something so finely crafted to any chance of falling out of a hospital wagon."

"I have it," Faramir said, putting Garad out of his misery and saving himself from future grief. He reached into his surcote and produced a tiny object hidden inside a scrap of clean white bandage. With a flourish of a half bow, he dropped it into Garad's eagerly outstretched palm. Boromir quickly steadied the Man's arm and Faramir made sure Garad had a secure hold before he let go.

"Thank the Valar!" Garad exclaimed. Then, completely forgetting anyone else, he pivoted back to Elena, stumbling in his haste.

"Easy, Hero," she said, reaching quickly to brace him even as Boromir and Faramir both got hands against his back.

Everyone who had been behind them on stage, now stuck, began crowding closer to see what was going on.

"What is it?" Eowyn whispered to Faramir, watching with interest.

"A Gondorian custom, a recent one, started by Boromir," Faramir whispered in return. He leaned in to place his lips so close to Eowyn's ear that Liel did not hear the rest of what was said. But she did see Eowyn's round eyed and pleased reaction. Her hand slipped back into Faramir's and together they turned and looked indulgently at Garad and Elena. Liel nodded approvingly. They were a good match.

Theodred was still present, but Eomer had gotten caught on the wrong side of the logjam as had Aragorn, Arwen, Gimli, Legolas and Gandalf who had gone on ahead. They were now coming back up the stairs, craning to see why no one else was following.

Meaning Elena and Garad had center stage, not just with the gathered royalty, but also the crowd in the square. Garad remained blissfully oblivious. As too, Liel noted with pleasure, were Boromir and Faramir.

"Umm," Garad said, his gaze locked with Elena's as he reached awkwardly to her with his good arm, the tiny shield now revealed and shining on his upturned palm.

It was beautifully wrought, the silver dished out to imitate the upraised Dome of Osgiliath, the symbol of Elena's birthright as a noble of the Giliath. The flowering branches of the White Tree that united all the Children of Numenor wreathed its edge, growing from a stylized crown of branches framing one perfect blossom in their curving embrace. The solid, powerful shape of a blacksmith's anvil rested on their foundation, and above the anvil seven arrows crossed their shafts in an elegant, deadly fan, their feathered shafts balanced above its center, the meticulous rendering of the arrowheads in an arc over all its length.

"I made this for you. Will you wear it?"

Liel shook her head, amused by the less than romantic approach even as she felt tears of joy sting her eyes. She knew something that Garad did not yet know, and she wasn't telling. That was for Elena. They would make wonderful parents.

Elena said nothing, but took the offering. "Oh!" she said, a whisper of delight. "Garad! It's beautiful!"

"You like it?" he said with evident relief.

"It's perfect," Elena told him softly.

She opened her hand to display it for Liel, knowing that Faramir and Boromir would have already seen it. Merry and Pippin shared more smirks, they had been aware of it, also. Sam and Frodo jostled each other a little, trying to see, and Elena obliged.

"Lovely," Frodo complimented, but looked and sounded a little puzzled by the excited anticipation about him. "What?" he whispered to Merry.

"It means they're married now."

"Oh!"

"Well," Pippin corrected, "They'll still have to have a wedding and all, yet."

Boromir heard that remark and turned to eye Liel who just shrugged. As far as she was concerned, they had been married for years and needed no such formal celebration. Especially as it seemed there would be weddings aplenty to organise as it was.

Boromir smiled unspoken agreement and managed to contain himself and not slap Garad on the back in congratulations. He turned back, standing there, watching the friend he'd known from boyhood and grinning that great grin that had first made Liel fall in love with him, many years ago. She remembered the night he had presented her with their first Shield Union, too. Vividly. She smiled hungrily, deciding a repeat performance was due tonight. She doubted, however, that Garad would be quite up to such a marathon. There would be plenty of time, many more nights, years of them. That brought another great surge of joy to Liel's heart.

"Then --?" Garad prompted.

_Men,_ Liel decided, _always nervous and never understanding the Woman had decided long since._

"Then what?" Elena said, missing his point, so entranced was she by the Shield. She held it up to her throat, began to turn so he could fasten it. His hand on her arm stopped her.

"You will marry me?" he blurted out.

Elena blinked. Then, her smile changed. Where it had been delight in the Shield, now it softened, became something much much deeper, so profound, that Liel's chest tightened to see it. Elena tried to say 'yes' but her voice failed her on the first attempt, and she simply nodded.

Garad let out a great whooshing breath of relief and sagged so alarmingly that Boromir and Faramir both moved to brace him.

"Yes," Elena said, then repeated more loudly, "Yes! Yes, of course you great idiot!" She stretched up, clasped her free hand behind his neck and drew him down to a kiss.

It took time, but eventually, Garad and Elena realised they were holding up the line trying to get off stage. It began as cheering but as the kiss showed no sign of ending, it became a rhythmic clapping and hooting. .

When finally the couple stopped for breath, their smugly dazed expressions blinked into one of rather embarrassed surprise as they realised the entire city and royalty of several kingdoms, Man, Elf and Dwarf, were waiting on them.

At the bottom of the stairs, everyone began sorting themselves out, heading back to their horses.

"Oh, no," Elena said, tugging back a little on Garad's arm as he made toward his mount. "You're not riding all the way to the seventh level."

"But –" Garad balked as Liel and Boromir joined Elena's efforts to redirect him to the hospital wagon. 'I'm not riding in that thing! I'm not sick."

"No… "Elena said slyly, running her free hand down the back of Garad's thigh. "But it's a place where _people_ can get horizontal if they need to. For whatever reason."

"Huh?"

"You may be up to _riding_, but I could use somewhere to stretch out and deal…. With…. All…" She traced the shape of his buttock. "The Excitement."

"Huh?" Unable to notice anything other than what her hand was doing.

"Bed. Together. Now. "

"You're coming with me?" Garad said with pleasure.

"Once or twice." Elena gave him a smirk and her hand moved lower.

Boromir erupted in loud snort.

Garad, preoccupied by that hand at his thigh, took a moment to realise what she'd said. His eyebrows climbed and he smiled then bent to give her a quick kiss.

"Nothing important got hurt, right?" Elena murmured against his mouth.

"Everything's already on the up and up" he assured, half- moaning. "That feels good."

Boromir, still laughing, accepted the reins of his horse from a groomsman, who was also grinning at the by-play. He craned to find Faramir in the milling, happy crowd and saw him much enjoying assisting Eowyn back into her saddle.

"Work faster," Boromir advised Garad. "Looks like there could be a demand for wagons."

"What?" Garad dragged his attention from Elena as she began ushering him toward the wagon, her left hand now resting firmly under the belt on his backside. Boromir tilted his head toward his brother and Garad, taking in the scene, gave a low hoot of delight. "Go, Stud!"

Faramir had his hands planted on Eowyn's hips as he lifted her, and she giggled, making it hard to imagine she had taken out the Witch King only a short while ago. But then, looking around, Liel realised, everyone had been transformed. Joy was the order of the day. For the first time in their lives they were truly free to indulge in frivolous pursuits.

"It's as well Eomer is being mobbed over there!" Liel said with a chuckle as she settled Liramir securely in the baby wrap slung about her shoulders. Boromir bent a little, reaching for the stirrup, preparing to swing up into the saddle. Enjoying the view, Liel reached out and pinched him. Why should Elena have all the fun? She and Garad were laughing and climbing into the back of the wagon, its driver watching them indulgently.

Boromir yelped and turned to her with a comic indignation that broke to a cheerfully lecherous grin. "You'll pay for that."

"Good! I've been waiting long enough!"

"It's only been three days!" he said with a laugh that faded to a somewhat puzzled frown.

Liel realised with affectionate amusement that he had only just grasped the complication of having her trying to mount in front of him while holding Liramir. He couldn't just leap up then reach down and haul her up as was there usual routine. "Well, oh mighty leader?" Liel teased.

"Merry! Pippin!" Boromir bellowed.

"What? _Now?"_ came the simultaneous and equally distracted mutters from somewhere lost among those the Hobbits referred to as the Big Folk.

"Good luck on that order, Mister Boromir," Sam said with a chuckle from somewhere just beyond the horse.

"Busy?" Boromir stepped forward under the horse's neck to ask him with a smile. Sam indicated and Boromir, spotting the two small figures further back, laughed loudly. Merry and Pippin were, as ever, loyally trying to make their way to him, but without real conviction. Three maidens had taken the ribbons from their hair and were winding them about Merry and Pippin's hips as if rounding up stray sheep.

"Our General calls," Merry told one, standing on tiptoe to give her a sad farewell for now kiss. "And we must obey," Pippin finished, copying his cousin and most half-heartedly trying to disentangle the ribbon that was being ever more lewdly wrapped about him.

Boromir fought down his laughter and yelled, "Stand down, Shire!"

"Yes sir!" They saluted and laughing threw themselves to the mercy of their vixens.

Which left Liel watching and waiting, holding Liramir ready.

Boromir turned back, saw Frodo grinning at him from where he sat on the seat of a small open carriage, its harnessed ponies decorated to within an inch of their lives with ribbons and garlands of flowers. Little bells chimed as they shifted restively amongst all the noise and congestion. The carriage seat put Frodo at exactly the right height and position to be of assistance. Sam was busy trying to make his way round to climb in from the other side.

Boromir strode to Liel, took Liramir, kissed her, and gave her into Frodo's pleased but a little startled grasp. "Hold her, til I'm ready, would you, please, Frodo?"

Liel drank in the expression on his face. Frodo, seeming to sense that, lifted his head a moment to meet her gaze.

It was all there, the child, a new life, for them all. They had come through, had endured all, for this. She had never seen Frodo smile so broadly. There was a muted gasp as Sam, climbing up, caught sight of his friend, his eyes brightening. Frodo had been returned to him, the Frodo he had started out with so long ago, the Frodo who still knew laughter. Liel had seen this before, Sam had not. A crippled, or embittered soldier, fighting his way from a long darkness, realising that he was alive, and that he was glad. That being alive was good.

Boromir leapt into the saddle, then reached down for Liel and hauled her up to sit before him. "Frodo?" he prompted.

"We're going home!" Frodo declared, and he began to laugh as if he had not truly been able to believe it until this moment. "Sam, we can go home! Rosie will be waiting!"

"And it will be spring!" Sam said, laughing with him.

Frodo winked at him. "A summer wedding."

"And a baby of your own next spring," Boromir told them, joining their merriment as well as giving a subtle hint that he wanted his daughter back.

"Lots of them!" Frodo's laughter rolled higher, blending with the caroling bells pealing from the heights. He nodded his head toward the hospital wagon that had started out up the hill and where a lovely female hand was pulling its curtains firmly closed amid raucous cheering.

"As ever, you take the lead, Mister Boromir!" Sam said, managing to get a quick snuggle of Liramir as Frodo relayed her up to Liel's reaching hands.

"That's plain Boromir, Sam," he reminded for what Liel knew must be the hundredth time.

"Plain Boromir, it is!" Sam said with the tone of one who would never greet Boromir with anything other than some kind of acknowledgment.

With the two heroes at last set, the driver clucked to the ponies and the small carriage started out, taking pride of place, leading the procession out of the crowded square and uphill. Boromir, Liel and Liramir came next, Aragorn and Arwen insisting on riding level with them rather than in front.

THE VICTORY DANCE

Lined with ornate arches and columns between which stood fine glass windows and doors, Minas Tirith's Grand Ballroom was magnificent even before it had been lovingly decorated with garlands and bunting and extra chandeliers earlier in the day. But the final touch was the laughter and joy brimming everywhere about Liel as she danced with Boromir. All the Lords and Ladies of Gondor, and those of other realms, too, were here. Resplendent in their finest dress uniforms and gowns, they enjoyed dance after dance, the polished parquetry floor reverberating beneath their boots and slippers.

The music was inspiring and irresistible, making Liel's heart soar as Boromir led her at a pace, laughing, down the length of the room. She'd not heard anything quite like it before.

There were two full orchestras taking turns to play from up on the Ballroom stage, another outside at the end of the green sward, and smaller bands down in the city streets, ensuring the music would continue unbroken all night. Gandalf, Galadriel and Elrond had contrived between them to bring additional Elvish musicians and their unusual instruments all the way from Lothlorien and Imladris, some of them having arrived on the backs of the ever-obliging eagles.

The room's tall glass doors stood open to the gardens where moonlight shone on flower beds that had sprung to full bloom with Arwen and Gandalf's magic – much to Sam's delight. From outside came the sound of more merriment, children's laughter, Men and Ladies singing about several fountains if they were not busy dancing or feasting. One of the fountains, Gimli had informed them, ran with pure malt beer! He had hurried inside only long enough to cajole Legolas into accepting his challenge to a drinking competition. Apparently, the Elf had won the last bout and Gimli was eager to settle the score.

Theodred and Eomer and their lady friends, laughing, had decided to have a competition of their own. There would be sore heads aplenty come morning, Liel decided, though perhaps Gandalf's magic might come to their aid there, too. It seemed the Wizard was intent on personally ensuring everyone had the happiest night of their lives. Including the children he was at this very moment entertaining with more bursts of fireworks that spilled candies to the lawns. The Hobbits were out there close at his side, sprawled on blankets and sleeping off the last feast they had crammed into themselves

"Well, look who's just come in!" Liel exclaimed, her face turned to the Ballroom's main internal door as Boromir swung her around, lifting her off the floor and laughing as the waltz music urged them on.

Boromir, turning, saw as she had done that Elena had entered the room, a very pale and very happy Garad beaming at her side, her arm tucked beneath his good left, his right cradled in a white bandage sling that contrasted with the deep green of the Ranger's dress uniform. Elena wore her House colors, pure gold interwoven with the blue and red flowers that grew among the corn, wheat and barley for which her people's lands had been renowned.

"Ha!" Boromir snorted. "Remind me to tell Aragorn to pay up."

"Pay up?"

"Five silver. He said Garad wouldn't be up to it."

"Ahh-huh. And you said?"

He leaned to kiss her mouth then answered, "I assured him a few orgasms would work wonders. At least for a Man of Gondor, not too sure about those Elves."

Liel laughed. "You so scandalize our King!"

"Maybe. But by the look in his eye I'd say he was considering trying the cure for saddle soreness himself!"

"And all other ailments," Liel agreed. "Come, let's go greet them."

The waltz had ended by the time they crossed the floor to where Elena was standing with Garad, both proudly displaying the Shield Union amulet Elena had been wearing at her throat. She had unclasped it to better show it for the admiring onlookers.

"Glad you could make it," Boromir greeted the couple. He kissed Elena quickly on the cheek and squeezed Garad's good arm. "The night is yet young!"

"That is beautiful work, Garad, " Liel complimented, eyeing the finer detail of the etching on the amulet that she had been unable to see in the crush on the victory dais.

"I had the best possible inspiration," Garad replied, unable to stop grinning, his eyes bright with a radiant happiness Liel had never seen in him before, though, of them all, Garad had always been quickest to laugh. A trait she had found a great boon over the years. Garad could always be relied on to bring cheer to his companions. It was good to see him finally reap the reward, officially, at last.

"Beautiful, indeed," Arwen said, arriving to join the group, Aragorn's arm about her narrow waist. "I tell you true, there is no Elvish craftsman could do better."

"High praise, My Lady," Garad said, flushing with pleasure.

"Well-earned," Arwen replied, smiling.

"May I?" Aragorn asked, holding out his hand to take the silver amulet of the Shield Union from Elena's hand.

"Please." She lay it on his palm and he turned it to the light, examining it closely.

"I would ask that you make, or at least, oversee, the production of the new insignias and coats of arms for the Royal Houses, if you would, Garad?"

Garad's jaw dropped a fraction before he managed to say, "Yes, of course! It would be an honor."

"The honor is all ours, "Aragorn told him. "I must point out, however, that you have forgotten a detail that belongs on yours and Elena's Shield Union."

"I have?"

Boromir eyed Aragorn with curiosity, recognizing in Aragorn's eager tone, a punch line being set up, and he was pretty sure he knew what it was.

"You have forgotten the stars, my Lord."

"The stars?" Garad repeated, not understanding though Boromir met Liel's eyes in triumph.

"For the House of Garamir," Aragorn announced as Boromir had expected and making Elena gasp pleased surprise, "or however you and your Lady shall call the union of your noble house and your own."

"My what?" Garad blinked. "I'm only a blacksmith's son."

"Your fathers were here in this land before Elendil was," Boromir pointed out.

"Our own House!" Elena said with satisfaction, and Liel hugged her in congratulations.

"Yes," Aragorn said, carefully giving back the amulet. Then, he lifted his voice so that it carried to all gathered about them "It is time for all Eriador to have its guardians restored. Many are worthy and will be called to that duty, but you will be the first, Garad, for I owe you the lives of my brothers, and Gondor owes you the lives of its Princes."

"My King," Garad managed to say. He tried to bow but stumbled dizzily.

Aragorn and Boromir grabbed to steady him, being careful not to jolt his wounded arm.

"I believe your Healer advised you to rest, My Lord?" Aragorn said mildly.

"There will be plenty of time for rest," Garad said, allowing them to guide him to a seat nonetheless, "after Elena and I have had our wedding dance, Oh My King!"

Elena rolled her eyes but smiled at him indulgently. "He insisted."

"As well he should." Arwen weighed in on Garad's side, earning a flashing grin from the Man that made her blush with pleasure. She was still finding her place among her new people, and doing it masterfully.

More people crowded about, wanting to congratulate the pair on both their long overdue Union and on Garad's new status as First Knight of the Realm. Boromir and Liel stepped back, heading to the refreshment table with Aragorn and Arwen.

"That was well done, Aragorn," Boromir said. "My thanks."

"Only as it should be," Aragorn said, pouring a glass of rich red wine for Arwen. "I believe I owe you five silvers, My Captain-General?"

"You do."

"I will pay up when I get a look at my treasury," Aragorn laughed.

"That soon?" Boromir smirked, tilting his head at Arwen who stood laughing over something Liel had said.

"Not that treasury," Aragorn grinned, appreciating the compliment to his Lady. "So, a chance to win back my five silvers?" he challenged.

"If you dare," Boromir agreed, following Aragorn's gaze to where Garad sat fondly watching Elena show off his handiwork.

"He will not make it once round the room, a slow waltz," Aragorn predicted, "before he'll be asleep on his feet."

"You're on!" Boromir agreed, "He'll make the whole dance through, My King. Wait and see!"

Aragorn stood happily surveying the Lords and Ladies in the room. "The Hobbits have not yet arrived? No wonder it's calm in here."

"They're with Sam who won't leave Frodo."

Aragorn frowned and met Boromir's eyes worriedly. "Frodo is not feeling well enough to attend the party?"

Boromir snorted. "He's fine, well, as good as. You saw how our "Second Breakfast Companions' enjoyed the feast earlier tonight. Would you be able to move – let alone dance -- after eating so much?"

"No!" Aragorn gave a relieved laugh.

"They're outside," Boromir explained, "asleep on the lawns amid the flower beds they couldn't drag Sam away from! Gandalf is watching over them."

"Frodo ate more than any of them," Liel put in, turning to their conversation.

"All three of his friends were making certain he ate," Arwen explained, "And he was too kind, and too happy, to refuse."

"Oh," Aragorn's smile faded. "I hope he hasn't given himself indigestion. Perhaps I should –"

"There they are now!" Boromir exclaimed, and waved toward the one of the garden balcony doors. "Over here!"

"See," Arwen poked Aragorn in the ribs. "They're fine. Stop worrying."

The band struck up a lively beat and various couples took the floor forming a promenade through which they could weave to the music. Garad got to his feet with the assistance of a chair back. Boromir opened his mouth to give an uh-oh warning to Liel that their friend looked set to try something that must certainly be well beyond his strength.

"Don't fuss," Liel said. "Elena has him well in hand."

"Indeed she does!" Boromir agreed with an amused snort, watching as Elena suddenly decided she must have a long passionate kiss right now. And when that was done, she joined some of her lady archer friends who wanted a closer look at the Shield Union, stalling Garad's intent on trying the lively dance with her as his partner.

"Look!" Merry announced, the four Hobbits arriving to join their group. "More food!"

Frodo groaned. "I'll pass. Come on, Sam, let's go congratulate Elena and Garad."

"So, what kind of dance do they call that?" Pippin asked, "It looks like fun!"

Liel explained while Boromir fielded Merry's query as to the whereabouts of Gimli, Legolas and the Men of Rohan.

"Drinking competition," Boromir said with a smirk.

"We know," Merry replied. "They were by the ale fountain but they left."

"Oh," Boromir considered, then remembered. "Gimli said something about eventually going with Ciran and Damrod to examine Ciran's famous still. So maybe ---"

"They were with him, now I think of it," Merry said. "Probably a challenge between the Men of Gondor and the Rohirrim!"

"That will be a long time in getting to last Man standing!" Boromir laughed.

"The last Man or Elf or Dwarf!" Pippin added, rejoining their conversation. "Celeborn and Glorfindel decided someone other than Legolas alone should , I quote, "Uphold the Honor of the Elven Realms."

"What happened to Elrond?" Liel wanted to know.

Pippin shrugged. "Not sure, but knowing him, he's probably off reading in some Library or something."

"The rest will have sore heads come the morning, but they will have had the fun to go with it!" Merry concluded. "Come on, Pip, let's go try that dance. Those ladies over there are waving to us!"

And the two disappeared into the fray.

"Tell me I did not hear mention of Ciran's still?" Liel asked warningly. Frowning, she lifted her hand to touch the scar on Boromir's forehead.

"Oh, no! Not this again, not tonight! Ciran fixed that problem years ago, you know that," Boromir assured her. "It's never exploded again. Well, " he added truthfully, "At least, not hard enough to knock a Man from his feet."

Liel raised one eyebrow at him. "And this is supposed to reassure me, how, exactly?"

"Well, how about this instead?" Boromir drew her aside into one of the loosely curtained alcoves. He wrapped his arms tight about her and kissed her long and lingeringly, his tongue sparring warmly with hers, his hands tracing her hips in a way that promised much more for the night ahead.

"That will do very nicely," Liel agreed a little breathlessly. "For now." She pinched his backside, making him yelp as he stepped back onto the dance floor. She followed, rearranging her skirts with one hand, and adjusting the shoulders of her low cut gown with the other.

Their reappearance prompted some low whistling and hooting from Garad, Elena and Merry and Pippin. Boromir gave them a smug bow.

"Do you think I might prise our daughter away from her Uncle for a moment or two?" Liel said and adjusted the tight fit of her bodice until it settled more comfortably over her full breasts.

"No chance!" Boromir chuckled, looking to where Faramir sat holding a burbling Liramir on his knee while Eowyn dangled some piece of jewelry before her clutching hands. "Not while she has Eowyn's undivided attention!"

"Oh, I don't think it's so undivided. Watch."

Boromir did, and saw the way Eowyn's eyes kept wandering away from Liramir's play to watch Faramir's reactions as he doted on his niece.

"I see what you mean!" Boromir agreed with a grin. "I'd say Liramir is already planning her campaign of conquest with more cousins being the booty!"

"Exactly!"

"I'll be back," Boromir said, giving his wife a quick kiss and hurrying off through the throng.

Liel noted he went first to Merry and Pippin, hauling each briefly from the dance to whisper in their ears. Both their faces lit up and there was much enthusiastic nodding. Boromir slapped them on the back and continued on, going to talk to other friends about the room, all with the same reaction. Liel looked back to see Aragorn was immersed in laughing with Arwen, the two of them standing admiring the view from the balcony. Far below, in the gaily lit city streets, came the sounds of much revelry. Closer, at the feet of the Hall steps on the green sward, more tables and more dance platforms had been set up and were packed with merry-makers.

Just as Liel had begun to wonder if she should not go sit with Faramir and risk disturbing his rapt discussion with Eowyn, she saw Aragorn and Arwen return to the room, Arwen heading toward her, and Aragorn disappearing toward the band at the back of the room.

"Men," Arwen said by way of greeting as she arrived at Liel's side.

"The bet?" Liel guessed.

"This will be interesting. Should we warn Elena they're playing with Garad's strength?"

"Why spoil the fun? Let's just see how it pans out. Elena won't let Garad overtax himself. And nor will our Lords." Liel winked. "I'm certain Elena has more… elaborate private plans to spend the coin of Garad's energy levels."

The dance music ended amid applause, then started up again almost immediately, in a complete change of mood to a sedate, very sweet, romantic waltz.

"Aragorn you sly old dog!" Boromir snorted, returning to Liel's side in time to watch as his King took the center of the floor with Arwen, his arms drawing her hard against himself. They danced alone to much applause, and some whistling from Merry and Pippin.

"As if you aren't!?" Liel said, running her hands low over Boromir's hip to give him another little pinch.

"You'll pay for that!" he said turning to close his mouth over hers.

"You might need the money," she returned in a breathy whisper against his warm lips.

"I don't accept payment from you in coin!" he declared with a sly grin as he drew back. " And my money is safe. I've got it covered."

Liel eyed him, wondering exactly what he'd arranged. "The bet is Garad will stay on his feet more than one turn around the room?" Boromir nodded. Liel turned to where Elena was sitting stroking Garad's face as they whispered together. "He looks only half awake as it is!"

"Never fear!" Boromir told her. "I have a plan."

Liel groaned.

Then, from out on the dance floor, Aragorn inclined his head in an invitation to Boromir and Liel that swept on to include Garad and Elena, and all the other Lords and Ladies present.

"He means to win this bet!" Liel chuckled. "But my money's on you and Garad!""

Garad came to his feet steadily enough and even managed a gallant half-bow to Elena before he led her out onto the floor. But by the time they were half way round the huge hall, it was apparent he was failing, his breathing more shallow and his color fading.

"Boromir…" Liel warned.

"I know. Watch." Boromir gave a low whistle and Merry and Pippin appeared, their ladies with them, circling closer to Garad and Elena.

"May we?" Merry asked.

"May you what?" Elena asked when Garad could not find the breath.

"Show you the way we do this dance in the Shire?" he winked and inclined his head to where Boromir was watching.

Elena frowned, then caught on as Merry and Pippin's regard returned to a stumbling Garad and then passed over him to a concerned, and closing on them, Aragorn.

"Please," she said.

"Well it sort of works like this, we change off and then the Men all line up and wrap their arms behind each other's backs like this, " he demonstrated with Pippin, "Then they dance together, going sideways down the hall, while the Ladies do the same, facing us."

"I like it!" Elena said.

"Sure, let's give it a try," Garad agreed, looking glad of the momentary pause as he regained his breath.

Elena carefully handed Garad over to Merry and Pippin who took up position on either side, in a fashion Liel was sure they had done many times before with an exhausted, wounded Boromir.

"I stand in awe of a professional at work," she told Boromir with a laugh.

"I am good, aren't I?" he agreed with a smirk. "They'll hold him up all the way to the end of the hall. Watch."

"Hmm, Garad is so much taller than us," Merry said, pretending surprise and confusion. "And one arm is wounded so he can't wrap his arm about you on that side, Pip."

"I know! We can do it like this! " Pippin demonstrated, "I'll hold onto you instead, Garad! And Merry, he can reach your shoulders if not your back."

"Right!" Merry pulled Garad's good arm carefully around his shoulders, and much to Elena's delight, all three resumed dancing. Or sort of dancing.

They supported Garad the length or the room, while Elena 'danced' with their two lady friends. Then, at the top of the hall, they handed Garad back to her. This was the tricky part. Elena did not know of the bet, and would as likely lead Garad immediately to a seat. His legs were wobbling beneath him.

But Garad shook his head as she whispered urgently to him. She sighed and looked around trying to steer him closer to the seats in case he fell. Aragorn was now frowning in a manner that told Liel the bet was the last thing on his mind.

"Sod the bet," Boromir said, echoing her thoughts. "He needs to sit down before he falls down."

Merry and Pippin circled closer to Boromir, and asked, "Should we prop him up again?"

Boromir shook his head. "Just stay close and catch him if he stumbles."

Everyone, it seemed, had the same idea. All about the dance floor, the ranks were closing, everyone getting into arm's reach so they could help if need be.

Garad, though obviously weakening, was oblivious to all the concern mounting about him. The great beaming smile had never left his face, and he seemed completely focused on finishing his wedding waltz. Realising that, everyone else stopped dancing, and the music, without missing a beat, melded into Garad and Elena's favorite piece, a tune they had often asked the band to play for them.

That gave Garad new life. He leaned down and kissed Elena, drew her even closer. Together, stumbling in perfect unison, they made their way once more down the length of the room, everyone watching, staying near just in case, but now more intent on the romance of the moment rather than the former pending emergency.

The music ended, and Garad continued to sway, his eyes a little glazed. Aragorn took one arm, and Boromir got his own arm under the Man's wounded side. Together, amid much applause for the completed dance, they steered him to an armchair by the fire.

"Rest," Aragorn said sternly.

'Beer," Garad said, smiling up at them with a dazed happiness.

"Here you go!" Merry declared, arriving as if able to read the Man's mind, with mug of ale in hand.

"You made it!" Pippin said. "Boromir wins!"

Boromir shook his head vigorously at them but Garad only laughed. "I might have guessed! So that's what you were up to!"

"Well," Pippin amended, "you did the last turn down the floor all by yourselves."

"And it looked fantastic!" Merry lied.

Liel finished filling Elena in on what had been going on and she shook her head muttering "Men!"

"They owe you five silvers each," Arwen said primly, dragging Aragorn away before he could intrude with a Healer's examination.

When both women looked back at Garad they found him sound asleep in his chair, somehow still managing not to spill the beer.

"Time you took your husband to bed," Liel said softly.

Elena murmured, lacing her fingers through his dark hair. "I nearly lost him this time."

"The battles are over. He is safe," Liel told her firmly. "Time you climbed into bed with him and held him until you convince yourself of that."

Elena nodded then looked up at Liel with a rueful smile. "He's such a great lump. I can't carry him and I don't' want to wake him ---

"I shall call our bearers!" Liel replied with an evil grin. "Time they earned their keep! Putting bets on your wedding waltz, indeed!"

Liel was gladdened by the sound of Elena's laughter.

Garad and Elena

The linen of the bandage was roughly woven, yet soft, warm and smooth where Elena's fingers gently traced its edges, following the broad contour of Garad's upper chest and shoulder. She would not touch the bandage where it lay the wound, it would still be painful and even so careful a touch might wake him.

Briefly, she wondered just how terrible had been that wound, but she didn't really want to know. It would be bad enough when the time came, tomorrow, to change the wrapping and she would finally see the raw truth. She did know that Aragorn had healed him, that it had taken such rare magic and power that the story had rapidly spread through the ranks, was still spreading.

"_He really is our king, only he could have … The old saying foretold he would have such power to heal, and he alone." _

Elena had yet to hear the details, for whenever the story-teller realised she was approaching, they shut up. Never a good sign. Her fingers tightened then relaxed. She would not think of it now. She propped herself a little higher on her elbows on the mattress, making it dip a little. Garad shifted fractionally, his head turning in her direction, and his lips moving in his sleep as if to kiss her.

"Shh… I'm here. Rest." She bent and kissed his forehead and he settled back on the pillows.

"Dance?" he murmured, making her smile.

"We danced enough. Time to sleep."

"Mmmm..?" His breathing grew heavier and his chin slumped to his chest, deeply asleep once more.

Elena remembered how valiantly he had tried to emulate the other couples on the dance floor tonight. He simply had neither the stamina nor the balance for more than one slow, stumbling waltz. Aragorn, she had realised, in particular had been keeping an eye out for his patient, as were Garad's other friends, despite the horseplay surrounding the betting.

She had asked Boromir about Garad's weakness, unwilling to intrude between Faramir and Eowyn who had finally gotten up and joined the others on the dance floor after Liramir's mother had reclaimed through the unassailable expedient of it being dinnertime.

When Boromir had hesitated, she insisted he tell her the truth, and he admitted, "Blood loss. You know how it goes. It'll take a while. He should be in bed."

Elena had nodded briskly. "He _will_ be in bed."

Boromir had raised an eyebrow at her and added, "Resting."

Stepping on his foot in mild retaliation, she had turned to go round Garad up and found Damrod and Ciran already had him in hand. Not waking him, and thus daring his protests, they had merely picked him up, chair, beer mug and all, and carried him from the room as bearing a King atop his throne. Aragorn was there, too, having completed a quick check on his recalcitrant patient.

"He'll be fine, "their new King had said with his kind smile. "See he rests. And congratulations, Lady Garamir."

Garamir. Elena snuggled more closely against Garad and decided they'd keep that as their house name. And in the morning, while Garad was still in bed, and thus safe from taking hurt if he fainted, she'd tell him the best news of all, the news she'd thus far only confided to Liel.

She was pregnant. The first child of their new house would be born just before Yule. Garad was going to be a father. Elena saw again Garad, all those years ago, broken leg and all, sound asleep in his hospital bed, the twin refugee boys, Harma and Haldan asleep at his side in the sunshine. That had been the first moment she'd first realised she loved him enough to have his children, and it had frightened her, thinking of creating their own family amid the danger of war.

Instead, now, their children would be part of the first generation of Men that would grow up to in a new world of peace and laughter.

END


End file.
